


A spider's lullaby

by Kim_Gwenhwyfar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Tower, Blow Jobs, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Casual Sex, Consent, F/M, Fingering, Friends to Lovers, M/F, Mention of roofies, Multi, Nightmares, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Oral Sex, PWP, Red Room references, Shower Sex, Smut, The Avengers (2012) Compliant, Threesome (later chapters), Undercover Work, Violence (off-screen), Violence (on-screen), m/f/m
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5707753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kim_Gwenhwyfar/pseuds/Kim_Gwenhwyfar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Natasha can't be woken from a bad dream, JARVIS sends Steve to wake her up. What follows is a friends-with-benefits relationship that's complicated by issues of trust, control and the re-emergence of an old friend and partner. </p><p>Eventual threesome and smut in between.</p><p>- + - x - + - x - + - x - + -</p><p>
  <b>Excerpt:</b>
  <br/>
  <i>“Captain Rogers?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Steve opened one eye. That damn computer of Tony’s better have a really  good reason to wake him up. Didn’t he just fall asleep two minutes ago?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Captain Rogers, sir? Please wake up.” The AI raised its voice, a sense of urgency in its tone.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yes, JARVIS, what do you want?” Really, he needs his sleep, supersoldier or not.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Sir, I am terribly sorry to bother you, but agent Barton is not presently available and I’m very worried about ms Romanoff.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He sat up. “Continue.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Ms Romanoff’s heart rate and temperature have been elevated for more than thirty minutes and she doesn’t respond to audio- or visual stimuli when I try to wake her up.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceCommander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCommander/gifts).



> This fic takes place after the events of The Avengers and before, during and after the events of The Winter Soldier. I hated Age of Ultron, so there's no mention of that movie.

“Captain Rogers?”

Steve opened one eye. That damn computer of Tony’s better have a _really_  good reason to wake him up. Didn’t he _just_ fall asleep two minutes ago?

“Captain Rogers, sir? Please wake up.” The AI raised its voice, a sense of urgency in its tone.

“Yes, JARVIS, what do you want?” Really, he needs his sleep, supersoldier or not.

“Sir, I am terribly sorry to bother you, but mr. Barton is not presently available and I’m very worried about ms Romanoff.”

He sat up. “Go on.”

“Ms Romanoff’s heart rate and temperature have been elevated for more than thirty minutes and she doesn’t respond to audio- or visual stimuli when I try to wake her up.”

Steve had already put on some pants, walking with a brisk pace towards the elevator that would take him three floors down. The tower was, at that time of night, devoid of staff and the other inhabitants were, Steve hoped for them, asleep. The only sound that could be heard was the omnipresent hum of all the electronics that Tony has installed in every nook and crevice of the Tower.

“In short,” JARVIS kept going, “I’m in need of a pair of hands and ms Romanoff won’t allow any robotics on her floor. I’m terribly sorry again, sir.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’d rather you wake me up for stuff like this.”

When Steve arrived at the front door of Natasha’s apartment, he spoke in the general direction of the ceiling. “You’re gonna need to open this door for me.”

The electronic lock whirred and the door opened soundlessly. Sometimes all those gizmos still freaked him out, but there was little time to ponder about that.

“Thanks JARVIS. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

“Certainly, sir,” the AI said, its voice withdrawing on the last syllable.

Steve walked into the apartment, opening straight into the living room. Everything was dimly lit, the spots in the ceiling on their lowest setting. Probably JARVIS's doing.

It came as no surprise to him that the room was spartan, everything in its designated place. The apartment's a study in unoccupied space, the vast living room housing only the barest of necessities. But he wasn’t there for Natasha's interior decorating style.

She wasn’t where he expected her. He'd checked the master bedroom first, finding it empty. Apparently she had taken a shine to one of the guest bedrooms.

“Nat?” Steve shouted out. No reaction.

“Natasha?” He heard some faint noises emanating from one of the rooms closest to the kitchen. Taking large strides, he got there in seconds and opened the door. If JARVIS had woken him up because Nat was unresponsive, it must've been bad.  
It was.

Natasha was lying in the kingsize bed, dwarfed by it, hair spread out over the pillow. She was talking in her sleep, cajoling with an unseen force. Her hands were balled in fists, lying useless next to her body.  
The room smelled faintly, a mix of cold sweat and a musky, very Natasha-y smell.

Steve doesn’t speak Russian very well, but he knew enough to understand that she was pleading with someone, didn’t have the upper hand. Her words were interjected by whimpers and small moans.

   
“Natasha, you gotta wake up!”

No response. Steve really didn’t feel like touching her. It wasn't that he has something against her, far from it, but he feared being stabbed or shot and he was not taking chances, so he remained standing some feet from the bed. He was also not entirely sure whether it was appropriate to touch someone in their sleep, especially if they regularly made an appearance during yours.

He tried again, this time using his booming Captain America voice. “Natasha! WAKE UP!”  
But instead of realizing its intended effect, his colleague only started to whimper louder. There was nothing to it then. He should’ve put on a fucking shirt. He was not looking forward to having to explain to her why he was half naked and on her bed.

  
Taking a seat on the bedside, he grabbed Nat’s shoulders and gave them a firm shake. Her eyes shot open, but he was pretty sure she didn’t see him. They had a glassy unseeing quality about them. The same quality he’d seen a handful of times in the eyes of other women. To his horror, she arched her back and a loud moan escaped her lips.

   
Good god, he was going to _die_. And he deserved to. Because despite being acutely aware of the boundaries he overstepped by being there and witnessing what he just heard and saw, he wanted her. He wanted her to make those noises for him, _because_ of him. And he suddenly realized the source of the other smell, the one battling for dominance in her room. It was her arousal.

Closing and opening her eyes again, the second time Natasha's eyes were clear, surveying Steve's face with confusion.

He did the only thing he could possibly do to save them both from more embarrassment. He jumped up and took a couple of paces back so they didn’t touch, so he wasn't anywhere near her. He turned his back to her, to give her some privacy.

  
“Steve,” she said, to acknowledge his presence. Her tone was neutral, but her voice was shot. It came out as though she’d been deprived water for a couple of days. He realized she must’ve been talking in her sleep a long time.

  
“Hello Natasha. I’m sorry to wake you like this. JARVIS alerted me. I didn’t mean to...” To what? Overhear her? Scare her? Unintentionally intrude on an intimate moment, hear a sound that will haunt his mind for weeks to come? _Shit_.

She was still lying in the same position as when she had woken up, her eyes closed once more, breaths evening out. He dared to turn around again.

“Sorry again. I’ll leave.”

“Don’t. Stay.” She worked herself up on her elbows, slid a hand through her mussed up hair.  
Steve hesitated. He did what he had come to do and it had made him feel like crap. Natasha hadn’t asked for him to intrude upon her in a state she had no control over, in what could’ve only been a very complicated dream.

   
“Please. I’ve just had a fucking awful nightmare. Stay.”

Sitting up, she extended her hand to him, beckoning him closer. He walked back over to her, sat on the very edge of the bed. She'd made some space for him to sit, but it didn't feel right to settle on the mattress.

"Thank you for waking me up." Her voice had its normal timbre again, every trace of sleep gone from it. She smiled, although he could see she’d found her reserved smile again, the one she gives everyone but means nothing.

"If I had known how you would be, I wouldn't have..." his voice died down once more.

"Do you want to talk about your dream?"

Her response was swift, tone flat. "No."  
The answer would've stung had she not smiled wide, her head cocked to the side. Then she slid her hand around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her.


	2. A fantasy fulfilled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write, as chapter 3 was already written and I basically had to work towards that. I hope you'll enjoy it.

The sudden change of pace shocked him, enough to reflexively jerk his head back. He stared at her hard. It was incomprehensible how she could just switch between having a bizarre nightmare-and-orgasm combo to kissing him.

“Natasha -”

“Steve.” How could she be this hot when she _just_ woke up? Her face conveyed both lust and vulnerability, a vivid reminder of the reason for his being there.

“I can’t, Nat, not like this. It’s wrong.”

She pulled back, looking mildly offended. “Do you think I can’t make up my mind? I know what I want and I’m pretty sure I know what you want, too. But if I read you wrong, tell me now and I’ll apologize.”

He remained silent. He just couldn’t find it within himself to lie to her. Because yes, Steve _did_  want to be with her. _Fuck her_. The myriad scenarios he’d played out in his head while he stood under the shower, jerking himself off after a day’s work or a tedious evening of reading reports and other shit S.H.I.E.L.D. gave him to inhale, to bring him up to snuff, ran through his mind. It made him feel ashamed. He’d had his fair share of trysts in ‘42 while travelling with the USO girls, but those women weren’t really his colleagues, not that that made him respect them less. Natasha _is_ , and he shouldn’t want to bang her against every surface. It’s goddamn unprofessional.

“I can’t.” His shoulders sagged.

“Hey, don't worry. We’re both adults. Let’s not deny ourselves what we want.”

She sat up straighter, allowing the duvet to drop to her waist. If he wasn’t already halfway there, he sure as hell was now. Sure, she was technically not naked, but the thin camisole did nothing to hide the outline of her breasts, nipples protruding through the fabric. Her hand found his thigh, stilling at a place somewhere between ‘socially acceptable’ and ‘too close for comfort’. She looked up from underneath her eyelashes. It broke his last trace of resistance.

  
With a strangled “ _fuck it,_ ” his hand covered hers and moved it to his crotch, his other yanking her up and halfway into his lap, mouth fitting over her lips and tongue finding its way into her mouth. It surprised her for half a second at most but she found her footing soon enough, responding with alacrity and submitting to his none too gentle kissing. The hand that was just before resting on his thigh was trapped between them, deft fingers massaging his flesh with an urgency that emphasized how turned on she was. Whether it was his presence or whatever she had seen in her dream, it didn’t matter to him in the moment.

When she simultaneously tightened her fist over his cock and drove his tongue back with her own, he moaned loudly and fumbled to grab her breasts. That made her break the kiss, sagging against him. She doesn’t weigh much in comparison to him, but he allowed her momentum to throw him back on the bed, taking her with him.

“Fuck, I want you _now,_ ” Natasha whispered, the raspy quality of her voice cranked up to 11. She rolled off him and on her back before getting up.

“Don’t move.”

Steve consigned to staying right where gravity has positioned him, wondering what he had done right in life to get him to the point he was at just then.

  
Several seconds later, Natasha returned in his field of vision, naked as god had intended her to be, her eyes settling on the bulge in his pants before traveling up to his face.

By the time they got there she has already tugged his sweatpants and boxer briefs down to take him in her hand, running her thumb over the slit.

“I don’t want you to touch my head.”

Really, why he even bothered to open his mouth to ask for clarification was beyond him.  
“Wha-?” Steve managed to get out before registering that she was bowing over him and taking his dick into her mouth. He let his head drop back on the covers.

“Fuck, Nat, Jesus!”  
It was good that she had told him beforehand to keep his hands to himself, or he would’ve grabbed her hair on instinct. Being as it was, he bunched the sheets between his fingers instead while she sank to her knees on the floor. He felt her lips and tongue work in unison, one hand aiding her mouth while the other rested on his stomach. Having been barred from touching her (and not willing to risk dismemberment by teeth from grabbing her shoulders instead) he got to feel the full extent of sensations flooding his systems.

“Stop...” he panted after a minute or two. She did so immediately, raising her head and letting him fall from her lips. That image alone would fuel years of solo-sessions, he was sure.

Feeling incapable of further speech, he grabbed her upper arms instead and pulled her on top of him, covering her mouth as soon as it was near his.

  
Natasha's a collection of paradoxes: he observed that she willingly surrendered to him, but she also conveyed that if he should waver, she would immediately reclaim dominance. Somehow, he knew that would disappoint her.

   
Reaching between them, he moved to palm her and get her gears going, only to find that it wasn't necessary. At all. Still, it's good manners to get a woman off first. Natasha however, had other things in mind. She pushed his hand away.

“I have a condom here,” she breathed, “if you’ll let me?”

Steve nodded and Natasha sat back, opening the packet and rolling it down his shaft. She did nothing else, seemingly daring him to make a move.  
If that's how she wanted to play it, fine by him. Grabbing her hips, he toppled her off his lap and rolled on top, careful to keep most of his weight off her. She parted her thighs eagerly for him.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded and unfocused. If he wasn’t horny as fuck right then he would've laughed at how different she was between the sheets from how he imagined her.

“Last chance to change your mind, Romanoff,” he goaded and her eyes snapped open.  
“Fuck you, Rogers,” she bit out, bucking her hips. Steve smirked.   
“Yes ma’am.”

Grabbing himself, he fitted his dick to her and pushed inside. She was so wet he hardly met resistance.

A sigh escaped her lips and her nails dug in his ass, urging him to move. He adopted a steady rhythm, encouraged by the sounds she made and the perfect way she met every thrust. He forced himself to stay as quiet as possible the better to hear her.

As he began speeding up, her moans were cut short when he captured her mouth again, pouring all his feelings about her and the intensity of the moment in the kiss. In answer to his unspoken outpouring her arms tightened around him, burying one hand in his hair.

 

There is a moment during sex when the stroll to the brink becomes a run and you find you can’t stop in time, tumbling over the edge. Usually, he could feel when that moment approached. This time however, it sneaked up on him. One moment he was kissing her, pulling out and slamming back in and the next his yell was being muffled by her mouth, still returning his kiss.

 

His muscles tensed for a second before he went slack, barely remembering to keep his weight off her lest he crush her.

When he returned to earth, he looked down to see Natasha still under him, her mouth curled in a half-smile. “Hey there.”

He mirrored her expression. “Hi.”

Though he could probably go again within a couple of minutes, he felt his dick soften and remembered the condom, pulling out carefully. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it.

“Trashcan’s in the bathroom.”

“Sure.”

  
After disposing of the condom and the tissues he'd needed to clean up, he turned to return to the bed, fully intending on making sure Nat was going to orgasm as well. But the moment he was halfway between the bathroom door and the bed he could tell the spell was broken.

“Don’t worry about it, Steve.” She interpreted his expression correctly. A self-deprecating smirk passed over her face.

“I’ve had my share already tonight.”

“Nat-,” He began, but she shook her head. “I’m fine like this. Really.”

Suddenly he didn't know what to do, standing awkwardly next to the bed, stark naked and exposed in more ways than one.  
Natasha got up, bowed down to swipe his pants of the floor and gave them to him.

“Thank you for waking me up, Steve. I’m glad it was you. And I had a great time. I’m sure I’ll sleep better now.”

 _Well_. If that wasn’t a polite way of throwing him out the door, he didn’t know what it was. Lips pursed, he jerked his head in assent.

When he had gotten dressed again, he turned to walk out of the door. “Good night, Natasha.”

Just before he was out of reach, she grabbed his hand and darted forward to kiss him, a soft peck on the lips. “Good night, Steve.”

  
Back in his quarters, sleep ironically eluded him for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the people who've read, left kudos and comments! It means a lot to me.


	3. A conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat and Steve have a discussion about the events of last night (chapters 1 and 2). There's mention of -a form of- slutshaming.

They didn't speak of it, the next morning. When they met in the communal kitchen, she thanked him for his ‘help’ the night before. Before he could say anything in reply Tony and Pepper walked in and the things he wanted to say died on his lips.

15 minutes later she took a call from someone, her presumed her handler, and left.

  
It worried him, this undiscussed thing between them.

* * *

They met again, a couple of days later at 2 a.m., when she walked into the main living room where he sat. She wore a black wrap dress, of which he wasn't sure whether it was her own or clothing she'd had to wear for her assignment.

“Hi.” Her tone was tentative, unsure.

“Hey yourself.” He lay his tablet next to him on the couch, inviting her with a small hand gesture to sit with him. She took a seat on the chaise next to him, her body perpendicular to his, with a clear view of the door.

“I wanted to thank you again for the other day. I know it must’ve been weird. And I also want to apologize for kicking you out like that. That was rude.”

If he had to be honest, he didn't exactly know how to respond to someone thanking him for post-nightmare sex.

“Um, it was my pleasure?”  
That made her laugh, a laugh that died down all too soon.  
“And don’t worry about the other thing, water under the bridge.” As he said it, he found himself meaning it.  


“Steve-”  
He interrupted her before she could get another word in. Hearing her reject him was something he wasn't up for. Sure, she’d be gentle about it, no doubt. But he didn’t want to hear it all the same.

“Natasha, please. I think I know what you’re going to say. I’m not gonna spill anything to anyone and I won’t expect anything from you. Pretty sure what happened was an outlier.” He spoke to some point just beyond her, half-afraid to see relief flood her eyes.

“That’s not what I was going to say, actually.”  
His eyes snapped back to hers.

"Steve," Natasha smiled, lay a hand on his arm. "I enjoyed it. I did. Even more, I would like to do it again. But I worry about hurting you. I can’t be more than a warm body to you, no strings attached. Getting in any kind of relationship with emotional ties is not possible. And if we do continue with this, I don't want anyone to know. You shouldn't want that either. We can't be anything, not even casual lovers, in the eyes of the general public."

  
A wave of emotions crashed over him. She wasn’t going to let him down gently. Hell, she'd said she’d like to do it again. But it didn’t sit well with him. He doesn’t like keeping things from people, especially not if they would ask him directly. Oddly enough, the part about keeping it casual didn’t bother him. Who would’ve thought?

  
"Why can’t we tell?"

"You know why, don't be contrary. America's golden boy can't be seen with the Whore of Babylon, Steve. It won't do."

Fucking hell. If that was how she felt about herself, he had to try and fix it.

"You know that's not -"

"Yes, you don't see me that way. You know me. But I'm not unaware of what the rest of the world thinks of me." She smiled sadly. "As far as they are concerned, I'm sleeping with every man I can lay my eyes on, whether they are spoken for or not. It's just the way it is. I’ve come to accept this a long time ago."

“I don’t like the way of things, then.” Again, she smiled ruefully.

  
“C’mere.” Steve beckoned her. If she didn’t want to, he was sure she would've refused him. She didn’t, however, and moved to straddle him. Like this, their faces were at the same level.

  
He kept his hands on a relatively safe spot of her body, encircling her waist.

“If you want to keep it casual, I can do that,” he said, careful to look her in the eyes. “I’m not exactly looking for a relationship myself right now. And if you want out, I’m not going to ask questions.”

She bowed her head in confirmation, smiled likes she meant it for the first time that night. Satisfied at having said his piece, he pulled her towards him for a kiss. It was much softer, different than the last time. Still, he sensed that she kept a part of herself closed off, beyond his reach. Well, he could live with that. After all, it wasn't exactly like he’d bared his own soul to her.


	4. A night to remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sex. Safe sex. Self-deprecating humor from Nat.

When they broke apart again her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed. Steve imagined that his face mirrored hers.

He palmed her cheek, murmured how beautiful she was. She reacted by kissing him again, throwing her arms around his neck to keep herself upright and pull him close in equal measure. It was at that moment that he noticed she’d been ever so slightly pressing down on him, grinding against him. He broke their kiss.

“Do you wanna…?” She nodded. “Yes. Do you?”

He bobbed his head. Keeping it to kissing would've been fine too, but why deny a lady?

  
Steve figured that, unlike last time, she'd probably need a bit more stimulation before she would be ready for him.

“Tell me if I’m doing anything you don’t want, and I’ll do the same, okay?”

“Okay.”  
He knew she always had her head in the game, so he was sure she’d heard him, but it had still been satisfying to hear how breathless she was. _Because of him_.

Moving her dress out of the way was child’s play, the separate parts falling away to reveal a simple black brief. He appreciated the lack of frills and lace, those were never really his taste. Not that he would’ve said no to a gal wearing them, though. As if.

  
His fingers moved between her thighs and his pants, thumb tracing a slow circle over the fabric of her underwear. Natasha reacted by pressing down a little harder, grinding a bit more. His other hand rested idly on her thigh.

“Just a little lower,” she whispered in his ear.

“Oh, okay.” He did as instructed. A sharp intake of breath told him he’d found the spot.

When the crotch of her panties had turned damp, he pulled it to the side and inserted one, then two fingers in her, eliciting a moan as she simultaneously dropped her head down, eyes squeezed shut.

“God, yes. Keep going. _Please,_ ” she mumbled in his ear, before taking an earlobe between her lips and suckling it. His thumb renewed, then redoubled its efforts and she lost it. It was a fascinating thing to behold the otherwise so composed woman with a high flush on her face, eyes shut as she whipped her head back and let a pained whimper escape. He could feel her muscles contracting around his fingers, trying to draw them in deeper.

When her eyes opened again, her smile was intoxicating.

“Wow. That was… wow. You’ve got mad skills, Steve.”

He thought it had been pretty spectacular too, seeing her fall apart on his hand. His fingers slipped from her and he wiped them off on his jeans. They were pretty ruined as it was, Natasha's fluids staining the outside while the inside had been soiled with pre-come.

Leaning forward, she pressed a wet, uncoordinated kiss on his mouth. “How about we get you out of these, huh?”

A thought occurred to him then, bringing with it a dash of reality.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure we’ll have to go somewhere else, I don't have any rubbers on me. Unless you’ve brought some?”

She smirked. “We’re in _STARK_ tower, Steve. Tony probably has condoms stashed next to the blender or something. I’ll be right back.”

In one fluid movement she stepped off his lap and walked away, the dress falling neatly back into place, covering her ruined panties.  
He could hear her rummaging around in the kitchen first before moving to the adjoining bathroom, eventually walking back in whilst holding a shiny wrapper in the air.

“Triumph!” she exclaimed, winking in a comical way. It made him crack a grin.

He took the condom from her when she motioned for him to, tossing it on the tablet still sitting next to him so she could busy herself with opening his jeans. As soon as the zipper was down, he lifted his ass off the couch and Natasha tugged both his jeans and underwear to his ankles. Apparently she was nothing if not very efficient when it came to sex; her own panties dropped to the floor a second later.

  
Settling back into his lap, Nat embraced him to give him an open-mouthed kiss, bucking her hips. Within seconds he was hard again, his fingers digging into her thighs and eyes squeezed shut against the sensation. When she stopped he opened them again, saw her leaning over to grab the wrapper. The condom was on him in a flash, her hands working in impressive tandem to roll it down his length. She lowered herself on him, moaning. Steve made similar sounds of bliss.

“So good...” she sighed. He grunted in confirmation, concentrating all his mental energy on numbing the sensations down.

After they both were acclimated to each other Natasha started to move, slowly at first but gaining momentum as they both lost themselves in the moment. He hardly had to contribute, letting her set the pace and control the depth. He did move his hands to her breasts, rolling her nipples and getting more or less the same reaction as last time. She moaned loudly, the sound traveling down his spine and straight into his dick. Her shoulders dropped as well, movements stilling before she picked up again.

When she came a second time, her nails dug into his shoulders and she whimpered, sounding almost pained. The combination of those sounds, the look on her face and feeling her contract around him threw him right over the edge, his muscles pulling taut as he dropped his head back and unleashes a string of profanities.

  
As soon as they had both caught their breath again, he pulled her towards him. She dropped her head on his shoulder, kissed his cheek.

“This is usually the moment I would bite your head off,” she whispered in his ear. It took his brain a moment to clear the fog enough to understand that she’d made a joke pertaining to her codename. When it did, he snickered.

“Then I would die happy.”

Natasha pulled back, her expression soft. “You’re a good man, Steve.” She kissed him sweetly, moved to stand. He probably had to get up and lose the condom too. Also, he didn’t know what to say to that. Somehow, it felt like he'd just passed a test.

  
They walked to the bathrooms together, each going into their own stall. When he got out, she wasn't in the antechamber nor could he hear her in the stall.

He found her near the elevators, waiting for him.

“Are you going to stay here? I’m going to bed, I’m wiped.”

“No, I’m gonna go up too.” Steve grabbed his tablet, then dashed back to the elevator. The moment JARVIS announced his floor, he turned to Natasha.  
“I’m glad we had this talk,” she said with a wink.

“Yeah, me too,” he answered, smiling. “Night, ms Romanoff”.

“Good night, mr. Rogers.”  
He pulled her towards him for a chaste kiss, then took off.

  
That night, he slept like a log

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last smutty chapter for a while. After this there will be a bit of character and plot development until the first events of CA:TWS.


	5. An unexpected encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve runs into Natasha unexpectedly. He has to come to terms with the way she works for S.H.I.E.L.D.
> 
> There's mention of violence committed towards another person and drugging that person.

Three weeks later, Steve received a phone call from Tony. There's this event at the New York International Auto Show that evening, a private party for investors and friends of Tesla Motors. Sadly, he explained, Tony and Pepper were unable to attend due to conflicting schedules. In other words: Tony was being dragged off on a holiday by his girlfriend. Steve thought it was a much needed one, though he didn't say it to the other man.

"Your nerd heart is gonna looove it, Cap. They've got all the new shit and maybe you can talk with Musk about his SpaceX program."  
Tony sounded wistful, like he really was sorry he couldn't go, but Steve was pretty sure he would've forgotten all about it once he was on the plane with Pepper to Maui.

  
So Steve spend the rest of the day running errands and buying a tuxedo. Tony had tacked the part about the black tie dress code at the end of their conversation, _after_ he'd had JARVIS confirm that Steve would go in his place. He always felt like a stuffed peacock in formalwear, but all the girls at Tony's tailor had been fawning over him, so it wasn't all bad. An hour before it was time for him to leave the tux arrived, accompanied by one of the tailor's apprentices, to make sure everything was in tip-top shape and with the compliments of mr. Stark. He was going to have to have a talk with Tony about this. Steve's perfectly able to pay for his own clothing, _thank you very much_.

  
Arriving at the event was a big fuss. A line of cars were waiting to drop people off, but thankfully no press was present. He felt kinda excited, to be honest. It had been a big disappointment for him to learn that there were no flying cars yet, despite Howard's presentation at the expo in '41. Besides, he'd heard about these electric Tesla cars and applauded the effort. Global warming had not been a thing back in his day, but he loathed how many people were so blasé about it now, even though the effects can't be denied.

  
After having dropped off his coat and having been formally welcomed by the hostess he walked into the expo hall. There were a lot of people there already, most of whom he recognized from the news or from the pictures in their respective SHIELD files. They recognized him as well; soon he was surrounded by men and women in their swankiest clothing, shaking hands and exchanging platitudes.

It took a good two hours before he'd exchanged enough small talk with them and could politely excuse himself to go and thank the host, take a look at the cars on display. Musk was standing next to a pretty slick car, talking to a man who had a brunette hanging off his arm. She laughed at something the man said, the sound obnoxious, a little too childlike. Her black dress had a low-cut back that skirted her ass, something his ma would probably purse her lips over if she had been around to see it.  


Seeing as he had to wait for the couple to end their conversation, he walked over to admire the car instead. The accompanying signs proudly boasted that he was looking at the newest Model S. Cars never really were of any particular interest to him, they were more Bucky's thing, but he could certainly appreciate a clean line, a nice build. Aesthetics used to be what he'd excelled at. Frankly, the _only thing_ he'd been any good at. He'd had Buck for everything else...  
Before he could go too far down the rabbit hole of thinking about Bucky and their old life, he heard the conversation end behind him and turned around.

Big mistake. _B_ _ig, BIG mistake._

Steve stared straight into Natasha's face, to where she was hanging on the arm of the man who'd just been talking to Elon Musk. Her hair had been colored to brunette, her neckline just shy of too low, just like the back, and her makeup  _wrong_.  
There was much more than he's used to on her. While Steve stood nailed to the ground, probably looking like a train had hit him, she gave her head a minute shake. Thankfully her date remained oblivious, stalking over to him with an outstretched hand. The thinking part of his brain recognized the man as a big pharmaceutical CEO. The primal part of his brain wanted to pummel his face in. Steve didn't like the primal part of his brain. Nat was no relation to him, so he has _no right_ to stake some weird form of claim on her, not even subconsciously.

  
"Well, have I ever! Captain America, as I live and breathe. It's an honor, sir." His hand got shaken with a few pompous pumps.

"Jackson Lee, Merck & Co. Incorporated. So nice to meet you."

He woke from his stupor just in time to shake his hand back. "Steve Rogers. The pleasure is mine."

Lee turned towards Nat, beckoned her closer. "This is Nancy, my date for the evening. Nancy, I'm sure you know who this is?"

Nat stepped closer, shook his hand as well. Her hand lay limply in his.

"Gosh." She smiled, a fake but bright grin plastered over her face. "If I had known Captain America would be here tonight I've would've worn something much more patriotic!"

She laughed again, that grating, childish giggle. It offended his sensibilities, but her message came through loud and clear. She had not been aware he would be there that night. Her date turned towards her.

"Darling," he began, his voice sugary sweet, "would you mind getting me some champagne?"

She looked at that man as though the sun was shining out of his ass.

"Sure, everything for you, honey. Mr. Rogers?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm good, thanks."

 

As soon as she had disappeared from their view, Steve received a text. Excusing himself, he managed to glance at the message.

 _> > I_ _didn't know. Don't fuck this up. This guy's bad news. <<_

He didn't like it one bit, but they had talked about this. There's nothing between them. Her work is her business. He send a text back, containing nothing more than a confirmation of receipt.

_> > Ok. <<_

Meanwhile, the man Natasha was with had been gushing all about how Steve had been his childhood hero, how he grew up learning about Captain America in his history books. Basically, everything Steve was _so. fucking. tired._ of hearing.

  
Natasha had joined them again, handed the champagne to Lee. Steve knew it was rude, but as soon as she turned to him to exchange pleasantries, he excused himself. He walked towards Musk, hellbent on getting as far away from the whole situation as possible. After a couple of minutes Musk, who was a very pleasant man who would have otherwise commanded all of Steve's attention, moved on to speak with his other guests.

Steve got the hell outta dodge as soon as he was able.

* * *

Four hours later JARVIS announced that ms Romanoff was asking for permission to enter his apartment. He consented, got up from his bed to go and greet her. He had no idea what to say if he was honest with himself. Should he ask whether her mission had been a success? And what constituted a success? He'd rather not know whether she's sleeping with other men if it's all the same to her. That's one bridge too far for him. So he decided not to ask.

Nat was still wearing the same dress and high heels but her hair had been pulled away from her face in a bun, her makeup smudged. The reason for that became clear when she came closer: her dress and arms were splattered with blood, not enough to really worry him but enough to know that if that was all one person's blood, that person would probably not be in the best of shapes at that moment.

"Hey Steve."

"Natasha." He acknowledged her, using her full name on purpose. He wanted to strip Nancy off her, couldn't tolerate that woman taking the place of his colleague, his lover. 

 

That was just about as far as they got before he backed her into the bathroom, turning the shower on and kneeling to remove her shoes. She let him and a groan of satisfaction slipped out as soon as they were off. He moved on to the zipper at her side, sliding it down and pulling the dress from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, revealing that she wasn't wearing a bra but did have two guns and a couple of knives strapped to her. At least, that's what he assumed: one of the knife holsters was empty.

"Can I?" He gestured to the weapons. She nodded.

The moment he had divested her off all her weapons, he pulled her under the shower with him, still wearing their underwear.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded again. There was not a hair out of place on her body.

"I'm fine. Just glad that's over and done."

Steve handed her a washcloth to clean her face. Amazingly, as soon as she tipped her head back under the stream the brown washed out, revealing her own auburn hair. With her makeup and false hair color gone, Natasha returned both in body and spirit. She grinned wolflike.

"That guy booked the full girlfriend experience. He just didn't know he was getting the crazy one."

That drew a laugh out of him. He decided to just bite the bullet. If he heard things he didn't like, that would be his problem, not hers.

"Want to tell me about it while I wash your hair?"

"God, are you even for real?"

She pinched herself with a wink before turning around. While he worked the shampoo into her hair, she told him about how S.H.I.E.L.D. found out that Merck & Co. had been busying themselves with the development of a new and more powerful version of Rohypnol, mixing it with some fucked up Japanese hallucinogen.

"He got what was coming for him, though." She leaned into his hands.

"How so?"

"I dosed his afterparty beer."

 

Steve wasn't sure if it was appropriate to laugh as loud as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Non-waterproof hair dye is just another S.H.I.E.L.D. gizmo.  
> 2\. Elon Musk is the co-founder and CEO of Tesla Motors, Inc. and the founder and CEO of Space Exploration Technologies Corporation (SpaceX).  
> 3\. Merck & Co., Inc. is a real pharmaceutical company, but Jackson Lee is not their CEO; it's a fictional person.  
> 4\. New York International Auto Show is a real event. The private party Steve visits is fictional.  
> 5\. Chris Evans wearing a smoking/tuxedo: https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/deathlyred/137629273158.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr! http://deathlyred.tumblr.com/
> 
> 11.02.2016: I've changed the work 'smoking' to tuxedo


	6. Seconds to disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's POV from their encounter at the Tesla event and some more smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the request of some commenters I've decided to add Natasha's POV earlier in the story than planned. This is the explanation of how Steve and she met during the auto show, as well as the aftermath. I lied: there's more smut. Sorry, not sorry. Hope ya'll like it.

The day wasn't even three hours old, and Natasha was already done with it. No matter how many times she had been through the steps, being prepped and primed for a cover never got any more exciting. The extent of her movement was being severely limited by the coterie of people doing her hair, nails, tan and, the worst part of it all, wax job. No matter how little hair she had and how long it took to grow back, it had to go for an op. Just in case her mark got to that point, even though she made an effort to leave with her clothes on her back and avoid any naked intermissions.

By noon, she was finally ready to leave the salon and go back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. safe-house that would be the base of operations for that day. Her current handler, a towering man with a severe German accent, was already there. Despite his appearance, agent Stauffer was a gentle man and a very capable coordinator. He, like Natasha, was probably judged incorrectly most of the time.

 

"Afternoon, agent Romanoff." He greeted her, whilst handing her a tablet with the necessary information. "Have you been briefed about your mission?"

"Good afternoon. I have. Any changes to report?" Her handler shook his head. "Negative."

 

After that pleasantly succinct exchange Natasha settled in to bridge the gap until her mission started. She took her time changing into the uncomfortable dress and heels and re-reading the information provided, despite having memorized everything already. The guest list was a litany of the rich and famous in tech, fashion and venture capital. Her mark was actually kind of an outlier, something that could be used to her advantage.

Tony Stark's name had been supplemented with the notation 'guest of'. That probably meant Pepper. No problem there; both she and Tony had run into Natasha twice already since they knew each other. Natasha wasn't the only one who could act: Stark and Potts just ignored her during parties.

 

The Tesla Motors private event commenced at six sharp, and her mark was a punctual man. She met him in the lobby of his hotel. They got in the car together for the pitiful drive, eight minutes away, to the pavilion where the car show was being held. 8 minutes in which Jackson Lee managed to both pay her and cop a hearty feel. He'd ordered a high-class escort though an actual agency, but that woman been replaced by Natasha. Those girls were mostly majors in college, an age Natasha could still pass for with the right makeup. What mattered was the ability to mingle with other well-educated people without making a fool of the client and that was something she was more than qualified to. Lee, however, would get the most annoying version of Natasha she could muster within the given parameters.

 

The next couple of hours were spent in a not-too-unpleasant fashion. They mingled with other people at the event, talking for a good half-hour to one of the Tesla designers about engine specs. Lee turned out to be well versed on the subject of clean energy alternatives. Stark would get along pretty well with him, she thought wryly. Too fucking bad about the whole rape-aiding part of his company.

 

During the event, waiters walked around with plates of hors d'oeuvres and drinks. She only partook in one wine, requesting a glass of sparkling water next. Unfortunately, Lee followed her example, accepting the water with the kind of none-too-subtle wink that told her he didn't want to chance their afterparty activities with _too_ much alcohol. Wouldn't want to be let down from whisky-dick, right? Natasha gave him her brightest smile, instead of her middle finger (it was tempting, though).

 

Going over to speak with Elon Musk was a bit fraught with trepidation. They'd met before, when she was red-haired Nathalie Rushman. Fortunately, he didn't even do a double take. The same could not be said from the guest waiting in line to speak with Musk.

 

_Steve. Fuck, fuck. F_ _uck!_

 

It hit her with crystal clarity then. Guest of Tony Stark: Steve Rogers. Who, for all the world too see, looked like someone had just told him they'd drowned his puppy or something: he was nailed to the floor, eyes wide. If he blew this mission for her, S.H.I.E.L.D. would have a serious problem. Luckily, Lee didn't notice his odd behavior. While Natasha gave Steve a small shake of her head ( _D_ _on't say my name. Don't say my name_ ) her 'date' stalked over to Captain America, hand outstretched. The rest of their exchange she missed, mostly due to a couple of automatic processes taking over and having been sent off to fetch champagne for Lee like some kind of waiter. So much for avoiding a limp dick. Well, regardless, there would be no pleasure in his immediate future so whatever. Pretty soon Steve excused himself, ending the duration of their conversation just shy of offensive. When she scanned the crowd for him ten minutes later he was nowhere to be seen.

 

Another hour passed at the party before guests started to depart. Lee had been invited to the afterparty by one of the Tesla execs and he'd decided to accept, Perfect: less people and finally a chance to take some action. Natasha went in search of something to drink for him, under the guise of having to visit the ladies room. When she came back with a beer, he accepted with a jovial smile.

"Sure! One more for the road!"

She was glad it turned out to be this easy: the bitterness of the beer would mask whatever taste remained of the mild sedative she'd slipped in there.

Said sedative did the trick: 15 minutes later, he had her call his driver to take them back to the hotel. She activated the tracking device in her earring the moment she slipped inside the car, next to a man who was on the verge of falling  "he's going to be sick!"

No underling liked to clean vomit out of car upholstery. The car jolted to a halt and she heard the driver's door slam open and shut, before the back door of the limo was thrown open. The man did not see her coming, but he was stronger and better prepared than someone who just drove cars for a living: they always were more than just drivers.

The driver took a couple of painful hits to the head before he managed to grab her by the shoulder and haul her bodily out of the car. By then, the man riding shotgun had gotten out as well. While she was being restrained by the driver, the other man tried to grab her legs, something that resulted in a couple of good kicks to his solar plexus, after which he went down like a bag of flour. Her first opponent was considerably harder to shake off, but a shift in her body weight jostled him enough to release her. Having his hands freed however, he moved to grab a gun from the holster under his arm.

"Nuh uh, don't even think about it." Natasha taunted, whilst grabbing one of her knifes.

Listening didn't prove to be his forté; when the S.H.I.E.L.D. back-up and arrest team arrived they found Natasha administering pressure to a laceration on his neck, both of them covered in blood.

 

Another two hours passed before she could go home. Reports had been filled, a medical check had proven that she was unharmed and Nick had dropped by to check up, like he always did after missions. It was a friendly gesture from someone who felt like her father for all intents and purposes, albeit one who sent his daughter off to risk her life every so often.

 

Rather than going straight up to her suite, she decided to swing by Steve's first. Maybe he was already in bed, having shaken their encounter off by now. _Bullshit_ , she thought: there was no point in trying to fool herself. She knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep before he had confirmation that his teammate had safely returned.

Another part of her disliked the idea of him having seen her wearing ( _being)_ Nancy, ultimately someone who sold her body, no matter how much money people paid her. Stark, she didn't care about. He'd seen her embodying a few different people already, so his image of her was contorted regardless. But Steve… Well. Natasha apparently wanted for Steve to see her as she was, or at least the parts of Natasha she could share, the parts that weren't secret or too ugly to see the light of day.

* * *

When they stood under the shower, her having been undressed with such care and tenderness she'd felt a lump in her throat, she felt herself being restored under the gentle caresses of Steve's hands. While he carefully washed her hair, she told him about her mission, about her mark and what she had done after he had left the party. He kept massaging her scalp until she turned around, her retelling of that evening coming to an end.

 

"Steve..." She trailed off. The way he looked at her, like she was something precious instead of someone who had sliced another human being's jugular that same evening, gave her a gut punch. _He is just someone you sleep with, Natalia. You can't go there._ Don't _go there_.

Instead of trying to speak again, Natasha took his face in her hands, pulling him down to her level. They were still wearing their underwear, the wet fabric clinging to their bodies. Deftly, she slipped her hand into his undies, cupping him. She could feel his surprise in the way he gasped against her mouth, but his body responded regardless.

"Natasha. You don't… You don't have too," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

"I know. But I want too."

Condoms were too much of a hassle under the shower and waiting for them both to dry off would take too long, giving her too much time to start spouting things that could be misconstrued, things she couldn't live up too in the light of day. Instead, she sank to her knees, mirroring what Steve had done whilst undressing her.

Taking the wet cotton in her hands, she peeled it down his legs, throwing the wet boxers in the corner with a wet ' _splotch'._ The sound was absurd, making them both laugh. That laugh morphed into a groan as she took Steve into her mouth, sucking down his length. She noted with satisfaction that he'd remembered their earlier encounter, immediately putting his hands on his head like she was arresting him instead of touching her. That simple gesture, a token of the fact that he had _listened_ to her, only stoked the fire in her more. Her hands followed the movements of her lips, one enveloping the part of him that was too big to take into her mouth and the other cupping and rolling his balls.

Watching Steve lose it was a beautiful sight to behold. Many times when she had been performing this act, she had been too busy with her mission and/or ignoring the pushing hands on her head. This time she could enjoy the faces he made, biting his lips, the sharp intakes of breath, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed in his shapely legs. Steve was beautiful under the worst of circumstances: now he was downright angelic, despite the filthy language he spewed.

 

She knew what he was going to say before he said it from the way she could feel his balls pull up into his body.

"Nat..." Steve whispered, hoarse and broken, "I'm going to come."

 

Natasha released his cock from her lips but kept her hands working. He threw his head back and came all over her chest in a messy, uncontrolled way. After a couple of seconds, during which she had gotten back on her feet, he opened his eyes again. Seeing her standing next to him, his face broke out in the dopiest grin she had ever seen on him. She didn't get to enjoy the sight for long: he pulled her slack against him and devoured her mouth.

 

They kissed for what could've been one minute or five; it was enough for the water to clean his fluids off her. Reaching behind him, Steve shut the water off and successively scooped her bridal-style up in his arms. Thankfully, his apartment was heated throughout, so she only shivered from the cold for a bit when he tossed her dripping wet on the bed. The central heating did its job, warming her right back up again. That, and the fact that Steve's temperature always ran hot, something she was reminded off as he covered her body with his.

"That was amazing and I'd love to return the favor." He mouthed against her skin while he kissed his way over her breasts to her abdomen. Later, Natasha would blame her fatigue, the lovely way her breasts reacted to his kisses and contentment after the shower for the fact that the meaning of his words didn't sink in immediately. When they did, however, she tensed and grabbed his upper arms, stilling his progress down.

"No."

Confusion passed over his face. "No?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't want that. Please don't."

Steve looked stricken for a second, his entire body held perfectly still like he was frozen in place before he rolled off her on his side.

"Okay. Okay. Um. You want to call it quits?"

Natasha would've cried if she still had the ability to, but that ship had sailed a long time ago. Instead, she fought hard against doing the easy thing: falling back into mission head space in order to salvage the moment, to just let him do whatever he wanted. He didn't deserve that, and neither did she.

Forcefully calming herself, a reply presented itself.

"No, Steve. Just… do something else. Change approach, don't abort the mission."

He smiled at her reference to military tactics. _Thank god_. She hadn't soured the mood beyond salvation. Grabbing the hand that wasn't supporting his head, she brought it to her thighs. He got the hint pretty fast, slipping nimble fingers between her legs. When Natasha's breathing hitched, he pulled her toward him, her back against his chest. The resulting freedom of movement of his hand, moving purposefully the same way he handled his shield or pencil, paired with the way he suckled on the spot between her neck and ears, got her off faster than she'd expected under the circumstances.

 

As she lay panting, Steve rolled over and opened his bedside drawer, rolling the condom on beyond the scope of her vision. In other circumstances, Natasha would've checked whether he had actually put it on or just pretended, but Steve Rogers wouldn't pull such a stunt. If only for the fact that he was very aware of the significant amount of damage she would inflict on his major organs, she told herself.

 

(The fact that he respected people too much to even consider doing something so dishonest didn't even occur to Natasha.)

 

Resuming his position behind her, Steve snaked his hand to her front, grazing her breast before gently coaxing her by the chin to look at him.

"Ready?"

Natasha nodded, lifting her face to meet his lips. While her tongue explored his mouth, his cock slipped into her from behind, stretching and filling her body in the most delicious way. The sensations caused her to drop her head back on the pillow, his hand falling to her hip while hers grabbed the sheets.

She met him thrust for thrust, content to let Steve determine the tempo and depth. The sensation of being fucked from behind was far from foreign, but even in this impersonal position she still felt as safe as she could, the planes of his hard chest and the feel of his big hand unmistakably _Steve._

 

As their breaths became more shallow, his fingers moved again to her clit, still sensitive from before. Before long, she was right at the cusp with him.

"Don't stop, keep going." Tiredness had lent her voice another layer of breathlessness.

Behind her, he lifted his lips to her ear, growling in a way that told her he'd abandoned most of his usual reservations. "I couldn't even if I wanted." A fierce thrust, robbing him of breath. Then: "You're fucking _mine_ , Natasha. Mine."

The possessiveness in his voice, something Natasha would've gutted lesser men for, and the insistent rubbing of his fingers grabbed her and threw her bodily over the edge of her orgasm, thrashing and moaning in the confines of his grasp. Apparently he'd been holding out, for the moment she let go his muscles clenched and he threw his head back, swearing a blue streak and digging his fingers in the hip he'd grabbed the moment her clit had no longer needed stimulation.

 

Afterwards, Steve had loaned her a shirt, bashful in all the ways he had not been during sex. There had not been a lot of words to share between them: Natasha had kissed his brow and wished him a good night, a wish he'd echoed. She didn't feel like discussing the events too much and apparently neither did he.

  
Slipping into her own bed, she contemplated that she had much to think about, so perhaps another boring day would be welcome for once.


	7. A lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Clint share a bonding moment over big guns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. It was slightly longer than I anticipated (and wanted).

The next day he met with his liaison at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York headquarters. The man tried to convince Steve to inform them the next time he went to an event.

"I'm aware that it is unfortunate to have to let us know about your whereabouts at certain times, but we must avoid occurrences like last night's." Agent Holt said, his lips pursed. "I've read parts of the report that agent Romanoff submitted and I am given to understand that the target arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D. without suspecting, however inaccurate that assessment would be, any involvement of yours in the mission."

Steve liked Holt, he was straightforward enough for his taste, but he couldn't help but feel the urge to proverbially shoot the messenger in this case.

"I'm not comfortable with that, no. I've already agreed not to travel more than 250 miles away from New York or Washington D.C. unless on a mission. Isn't there another way to avoid mishaps like yesterday's?" 

Holt looked chagrined. "I will ask. But I can't give any guarantee they will find a work-around. In the meantime, do you have any non-publicity events planned the next four weeks?"

Steve shook his head. After that, their meeting proceeded like normal. There were a couple of missions that needed preparing and he wanted to discuss a change to his training regime. His Krav Maga trainer was a little too violent for his taste, so he requested another man or woman. Anyone, as long as wasn't the absolute shithead he'd been saddled with.

_(Personally, he thought the man was a bit too fond of steroids, but that's none of his business.)_

 

After he walked out of the office, he was surprised to find Clint lounging against the wall, chatting up Holt's secretary. As soon as he spotted Steve, Barton veered off the wall.

"Hey, man. Good to see you. Do you have a sec?"

Steve nodded, started to walk towards the main hallway. With a wink to the woman behind the desk, Clint followed him.

"How have you been, Barton?"

The fellow Avenger fell in easy step next to him. Steve hadn't seen him since the debriefing after New York. He was sporting a tan he didn't use to have and his hair was almost completely shaven off.

"Oh, you know. Here and there. Classified shit. Glad to be back though, I missed regular showers and McD."

At Steve's raised eyebrow, he elaborated.

"McDonalds? Junkfood? Come on, you must've gotten some of that since they heated you back up." He laughed incredulous.

"Anyway, I came here because they asked me to give you some pointers on sniping. Apparently they really want to make you the best soldier ever. So we have a hot date tomorrow at the shooting range upstate. I'll pick you up at nine. Wear something not too suggestive, I like to concentrate on the job."

Slapping him on the back, Clint left Steve standing there, slightly confused by whatever the fuck had just happened. Well, best to go along with it. It would be nice to do something else for a change. For the time being it was back to reading updates and mission briefings.

 

That evening, he arrived back at the tower just as Clint and Natasha stumbled outside. Nat was bent over, hanging on to her partner's arm as she laughed so hard Steve was sure there must have been tears in her eyes.

"Oh my god, _you did not_ , you fucking idiot!"

She straightened as soon as she spotted him, tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Hello, Rogers."

"Barton, Romanoff."

Steve waited patiently for them to exit before he could walk inside. Unlike the entrance employees and guests use, the Avengers and other inhabitants had a private door, unmarked and invisible from the street. Tony's delusions of grandeur had not extended to this door; it only fit one person at a time.

"Have a good night, Steve." Natasha's face and demeanor were perfectly friendly, betraying nothing, but Clint was looking between them with a frown on his face.

"You too. See you tomorrow, Clint. Natasha."

Before the moment could become really awkward, he slipped inside and steeled himself for another evening of speaking to J.A.R.V.I.S. and no one else.

* * *

His intercom rang at ten to nine.

"Yo Cap!"

Clint strutted into the living room, his bow slung casually over his shoulder. He dumped himself into one of the arm chairs, feet propped up on the side table that the interior decorator had deemed perfect for his apartment. Steve thought it was just a table, but what did he know? He's not used to furniture that isn't old and utilitarian, like the pieces that had inhabited the tenement he used to live in with his mother and after, the flat he'd shared with Bucky.

"Morning Clint. Nobody ever teach you manners?"

"Nope!" Barton grinned, but took his shoes off the table anyway.

 

Steve was sure Clint would be able to entertain himself for five more minutes while he inhaled his breakfast. He'd had received an email from Holt to confirm the change of schedule late last night. That day's lesson was sharpshooting with rifles. Steve had had a lot of experience with regular guns: he used to do a lot of short-range shooting during the war and during the various missions in the new century, but for long-range protection he had always relied on the skills of his brothers-in-arms or teammates.

Rifles were a priority during their short stint together; eventually they would move on to the bow unless Barton was deployed elsewhere before that time, even though Steve personally thought teaching him how to use a bow was a bit of an overkill.

 

"Dude, let's go. Ain't got all day. Unless you've got coffee?" Clint interrupted his reverie.

He nodded, moved to the kitchen to pour Clint a generous cup. The other man made a series of slightly nauseating sounds while drinking. There was no way one person derived so much bliss from a cup of Joe. Steve was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose just to fuck with him.

 

When breakfast and coffee were both polished off, they took a car to the Upstate shooting range (taking the North-bound with several rifles would most likely be frowned upon.). Clint drove and honestly, Steve had to try his best to remind himself that his body did not suffer from motion sickness anymore. Needless to say, the ride was silent on his side while Clint kept cussing other drivers out.

 

Learning how to operate and shoot the rifles was actually kind of fun. He wouldn't ever be as great with them as Barton, but he's nothing if not a quick study. In one morning, they cycled through the M21, M24, M40 and SR-25 and Heckler & Koch PSG1, Clint's favorite ("The Germans make all the best stuff, I'm sorry to say.").

Their communication focused mainly on the task at hand, but wasn't unpleasant. Eventually they reached a lull in the conversation when lunchtime neared and Barton turned towards him, focusing his attention on Steve instead of the rifles. Before he could get a word in, Steve interrupted him.

“Please tell me you’re not going to try and have some kind of shovel talk with me,” he said as he reloaded his gun, keeping his eyes on the target instead of on Clint. He's no idiot: if Natasha hadn't confided in Clint about their arrangement, the man had figured it out from their brief encounter last night.

Clint grinned. “Nu-uh. You and Senator McCarthy’s worst nightmare do whatever the hell it is you’re doing. None of my business. I’m her brother, not her dad. Besides, there’s no violence I can threaten you with that she can’t describe a thousand times better. Nat’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

It made no sense to fire another volley; Steve lowered his gun and turned towards his colleague.

"I appreciate that. Lunch?"

 

They spent the rest of the day practicing with the rifles they had shot that morning, including taking them apart several times. By the time they stepped in the car to get back to the City, both their shoulders were sore from the recoil, but it was the pleasant kind of soreness that came from hard work. Clint went right back to cursing other drivers out and that was the only sound in the car.

 

In the elevator to their respective apartments, Clint nudged his shoulder.

"Same time tomorrow?"

He nodded. Working with Barton was kinda nice; neither felt the need to fill the silence with small-talk and at the end of the day, Steve respects a professional, a title that Clint most definitely earned.

"32nd floor" the disembodied elevator voice announced. Steve opened his mouth to wish Clint goodnight, but the other man beat him to it.

"One last thing, Cap."

Immediately, the mood in the little cubicle shifted. Steve motioned for him to continue.

"I don't know what exactly you and Nat have going on, and again, it's none of my business. Knowing her, it's not some standard girlfriend/boyfriend shit. But I'm going to ask you one thing."

Being on the receiving end of the full force of his attention, Steve suddenly understood how Barton came to be one of the youngest commanders within S.H.I.EL.D. His happy-go-lucky attitude was gone, replaced by a sobering severity.

"If, for whatever reason, you're ready to move on, don't ghost her. Just tell her that it's over. Give it to her straight."

There's a reason for this request, and it's a story he'll probably never hear. The sincerity in Clint's voice betrayed the heartbreak he had seen his best friend go through.

"I promise," Steve replied softly.

Just like that, a broad smile returned to the other man's face. He slapped Steve's shoulder, harder than strictly necessary.

"I knew I could count on you. See you tomorrow!"

 

The elevator doors closed again before a befuddled Steve could echo the sentiment.


	8. A dinner with friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers (sans Thor but with Pepper) share a meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual character development this chapter o.O

**Chapter 8**

Six days into his temporary training regimen with Clint, Tony and Pepper arrived back from their vacation. To end their trip on a high note, they invited the team for dinner that evening.

_> > Just the New York lot and partners.<< _

Tony had texted both Steve and Clint. Of course, Tony was the only one with a romantic partner, so his point was kind of moot.

Somehow, Steve understood that the 'New York' in this context referred to the people who had fought in the battle six months previous, not the team members' actual residences.

_> >And I've invited the pirate king too.<<_

That part of the message got a good chuckle out of Clint, before they went back to firing off an ungodly amount of ammo at the target. That target that had been placed a good bit farther down the range than on the first day of their training sessions. They'd gone back to light banter and observations about the weaponry. The austere Clint who had made an appearance at the end of their first day of training had vanished like he'd never been there.

 

On account of the dinner party they broke the training off a good hour earlier than normal. The resulting avoidance of rush hour made the trip much more comfortable; Clint was down to a ratio of 30 percent conversation and 70 percent cursing. They spoke about mundane stuff, like the pastries Clint liked best and his childhood dog. Steve told him about the kitten he'd wanted to adopt when he had been 14, only to find out that he had severe allergies. If he would've given it any thought back then, he could (and should) have known. 

"You know, Tasha has a cat. You could have a test-run for your allergies with that hellbeast if you'd want." Clint remarked before firing off another rage-induced tirade against an innocent fellow driver.

"I didn't know. Never saw a cat in her apartment."

"Oh, she doesn't really live with Nat. Liho is with some old lady who loves cats and who wants to take care of her, I believe. But don't quote me on that, she could also be somewhere else. I never know. I try to avoid those claws at all costs."

Steve felt kind of pleased at learning that Natasha had something as mundane as a cat, despite its living arrangement. Of course, he didn't say anything to that effect to Clint. He also tried not to think too long or hard about those feelings.

 

At seven thirty a small group of people gathered at the Stark Tower penthouse, Tony's home away from home. Officially it was just Tony's, but everybody knew Pepper lived with him. They had both declared it a miracle that their vacation had gone by uninterrupted.

Besides the two of them, the dinner party consisted of Steve, Clint (wearing an actual shirt with buttons, no less), Bruce Banner and Natasha. Fury was, as expected, a no-show.

 

Being served by the chef herself was something he would probably never get used to. Dr. Banner looked taken aback as well; Steve figured they were both unused to a lot of luxury. Neither Tony nor Pepper even blinked and Clint and Natasha always blended in; he wasn't able to tell if they were used to such luxury or just pretending to be.

Whatever the case, the food was excellent. They were served course after course of light, vegetarian dishes, each seasoned to perfection. He was glad there was so much of it; his body required a huge calorie intake daily. It probably would have been an insult to the chef to broil himself a steak as a midnight snack, whether she'd know about it or not.

The company was pleasant as well. It hardly ever happened that most of the Avengers were at the same place at the same time. Thor, his booming voice and calm disposition were sorely missed and the hope that they would meet again one day was shared by all.

The conversation went from upgrades to the Iron Man suit to the clean energy initiative, an exploration of Indian cuisine and the merits of travel by plane compared to leisure boating.

 

"So, Steve," Tony turned to him during the main course.

"How was the Tesla party? I'm so jealous you got to go. Did you get to talk to Musk? You know, my father was always a huge proponent of space travel but you already know that, of course, because you worked with my old man. Let me tell you, Sputnik was a real -"

His hundred miles an hour monologue was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a knife and fork clattering against dishware, their former user looking sheepish.

"Oops!" Natasha smiled sweetly. "My bad. Sorry!"

And perhaps Steve would've believed that it had been just an accident, despite her absolute precise movement in the field, training area and, well, bedroom. But as soon as Tony had started to talk about the Tesla party Steve had glanced towards Natasha. Subsequently, it was impossible to miss her look of discomfort, visible for only a second on her face. That, and the not-nearly-so-inconspicuous looks Clint was throwing her way.

"Natasha, are you okay?" Pepper asked her from across the table. The genuine warmth and affection Pepper felt for everyone on the team couldn't be missed.

"Sure, sure, please don't worry on my account. I got distracted for a moment." She answered. She smiled in a disarming way once more.

"I'm suddenly questioning S.H.I.E.L.D.'s decision to give you sharp things to play with, Romanoff." Tony said, sticking out his tongue.

"Better watch it, or I'm taking a can opener to that shiny suit of yours, Stark!" She quipped back at him.

With that, the conversation resumed like there'd been no interruption, but neither Clint nor Natasha looked particularly at ease anymore. It wasn't something you would notice unless you knew where to look. Clint kept glancing at Natasha, who had started to talk technology with dr. Banner, discussing stuff Steve had no clue about. She, in turn, kept a tight grip on her cutlery, more so than strictly necessary. He was acutely aware she was eavesdropping on his conversation with Tony, who expressed disappointment at his story about the event. Steve had to embellish a bit to conceal his meeting with Natasha and consecutive abrupt departure. The whole subject was dropped within ten minutes, but not before he had a chance to thank Tony for the tux.

 

When they'd just polished off their desserts (most of them were complaining about being filled to burst), two phones went off simultaneously. Both Natasha and Clint excused themselves before walking away to take the calls. When they returned not five minutes later, the regret on their faced told the rest all they needed to know.

"Let me guess. Mission?" Dr. Banner said.

"Something like that. We've got to go, unfortunately." Clint responded. Nat stood next to him, nodding at his words. She moved to kiss Pepper goodbye and to thank her for the evening. The men were given a friendly kiss as well. When she pulled back from him, Steve tried to gauge her mood, her mental state. She was exuding nothing but professional friendliness however, and moved away to kiss Tony.

As the doors to the elevator closed behind the pair, Tony piped up.

"Well, that puts a bit of a damper on the evening. Shall we have a nightcap before breaking up too? I am unfortunately not the youngest anymore, and Maui sure did a number on me. Or rather, Pep -"

This time, his sentence was cut short by an elbow to the ribs from the lady in question.

* * *

One drink turned into three before the night actually ended and everyone had gone to their respective rooms, one floor up or several down. Bruce had his own floor in the renovated Stark Tower too, but he hardly ever used it. Steve also owned the apartment in Bed-Stuy S.H.I.E.L.D. had bought for him, but it was just too big for him. Or rather, too empty. The rooms in the tower were spacious as well, but at least he was close to other people he knew. And if he walked out of the building there were plenty of people on the streets going about their lives to drown some of the hollowness out.

Eventually, he went to bed thinking about Natasha and the incident at the dinner table. They had worked through the awkwardness of meeting while she had been dressed as an escort, so why had she responded like a bee had stung her at the mere mention of Tesla and Musk? Had it been concern for Steve's ability to keep his mouth shut, or had it been something Tony had said? He knew the worry he felt for her transcended the normal amount of apprehension he had for the well-being of his other team members, and that was exactly why he fell asleep without sending her a message to check up on her.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, I'd love for you to let me know. If you have any suggestions or if you've noticed a (grammar or spelling) mistake, I also welcome your comment.


End file.
